Poems (Piatt)/Volume 1/To-day
For works with similar titles, see To-day.
TO-DAY.
Ah, real thing of bloom and breath,
I cannot love you while you stay.
Put on the dim, still charm of death,
Fade to a phantom, float away,
And let me call you Yesterday!
I cannot love you while you stay.
Put on the dim, still charm of death,
Fade to a phantom, float away,
And let me call you Yesterday!
Let empty flower-dust at my feet
Remind me of the buds you wear;
Let the bird's quiet show how sweet
The far-off singing made the air;
And let your dew through frost look fair.
Remind me of the buds you wear;
Let the bird's quiet show how sweet
The far-off singing made the air;
And let your dew through frost look fair.
In mourning you I shall rejoice.
Go: for the bitter word may be
A music—in the vanished voice;
And on the dead face I may see
How bright its frown has been to me.
Go: for the bitter word may be
A music—in the vanished voice;
And on the dead face I may see
How bright its frown has been to me.
Then in the haunted grass I'll sit,
Half tearful in your withered place,
And watch your lovely shadow flit
Across To-morrow's sunny face,
And vex her with your perfect grace.
Half tearful in your withered place,
And watch your lovely shadow flit
Across To-morrow's sunny face,
And vex her with your perfect grace.
So, real thing of bloom and breath,
I weary of you while you stay.
Put on the dim, still charm of death,
Fade to a phantom, float away,
And let me call you Yesterday!
I weary of you while you stay.
Put on the dim, still charm of death,
Fade to a phantom, float away,
And let me call you Yesterday!